


It's Nice (To Be Nice)

by LizBee



Category: House MD
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-19
Updated: 2005-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:38:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizBee/pseuds/LizBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day House woke up, and he was happy, and cheerful, and above all, nice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Nice (To Be Nice)

House woke up, looked in the mirror and smiled. It was going to be a good day. He hummed a happy tune to himself as he got ready for work.

For some reason, this didn't seem strange to him.

*

Wilson said, "You look happy."

"I am! Overflowing with goodwill." Being unable to skip, House twirled his cane. "Isn't it a lovely day?"

"Uh ... sure." Wilson watched House make his way through the corridor. House was whistling. "That's really weird," Wilson said.

*

Differential diagnosis was a competitive sport, and the ball was in Chase's hands. Metaphorically.

He dropped it.

"That's completely wrong," said House with a cheery smile. "Don't worry. You're probably having a bad day. You know I believe in you, Chase." To demonstrate the point, he drew a flower on the whiteboard. It had a smiley face. "I'm off to the clinic."

"...Buh?" said Foreman.

"Clinic duty," said House patiently. "Wouldn't want to keep anyone waiting now, would we?"

When he had left the room, and the sound of his whistling had retreated, Foreman said, "That was weird. Right?"

"Very," said Chase.

"Definitely," said Cameron.

*

The advantage of having a hospital built primarily from glass was that it was really easy for the boss to wander around watching her staff at work.

At this precise moment, she was standing outside the clinic. She snagged Foreman as he passed.

"Tell me," she said slowly, "am I upright? Do I seem sober? Are my pupils dilated?"

"You look fine to me," said Foreman. "Um ... why?"

"I just saw House give a patient a lollipop."

"A lollipop?"

"And then he ruffled the kid's hair. And told him not to worry." Cuddy wrapped her arms around herself. "He sounded ... sincere."

"Don't worry," said Foreman, "he's probably just gotten his Vicodin confused with Valium again."

"That's a mistake anyone could make," Cuddy agreed.

*

Wilson found Cameron in the morgue. She was crying.

"Why are you crying in the morgue?" he asked. It seemed more to the point than 'Are you okay?'

"House," she choked. "He said ... he said I was nice ... and that I should smile more ... because when I smile it's like the whole world is full of sunshine!" She ended on a wail. Wilson handed her a tissue and hugged her awkwardly, so as to avoid getting snot on his coat.

"Don't worry," he said, patting her shoulder. "It's perfectly obvious what has happened. He's clearly on drugs."

Cameron sniffled. "More than usual, you mean?"

"Way more than usual."

*

House found Stacy in the cafeteria.

"I need to apologise," he said. She raised one eyebrow, but let him continue. "I've treated you with disrespect, and behaved like you were a prize in a Best Sarcasm competition rather than a human being."

Stacy looked around.

"There's a hidden camera in here, isn't there?"

"No, I mean it," said House quickly. "I don't deserve your friendship, but I value what we had." He held his arms out. "Hug?"

Stacy managed to say, "Um--" before she was engulfed in a wave of House. He held her for precisely two minutes, squeezed her shoulders and walked away.

*

Cuddy looked up as Stacy scuttled into her office, spun around and yelped, "There's something pinned to my back, isn't there?"

"No," she said. And then, because it seemed like a worthwhile question under the circumstances, she said, "I take it you've seen House?"

Stacy's lower lip trembled.

"Right," said Cuddy, getting to her feet. "I've had it up to here with Greg House running around my hospital like a clown at a kid's party. Giving out lollipops and patting people on the head. It's unacceptable. It's just not right."

"It's just not Greg."

*

Foreman found House in his office, throwing magazines into a box.

"The MRI didn't show anything," he said. "I know it's usually a waste of time, but I think we should consider a full body scan--"

"Good idea," House agreed. "The false positives will be annoying, but we might find something important. Could you do me a huge favour?" He handed Foreman the box. "And take these back issues of Seventeen magazine down to the waiting room?"

"Um," said Foreman, "sure. I guess."

"Thanks!"

House's cheerful grin was verging on manic. Foreman made a mental note to stock up on sedatives before he came back.

*

Cuddy found Wilson in his office. He and Cameron were reading pamphlets with titles like So you think your diagnostician is on drugs...

"House has gone insane," she said.

"We know," said Cameron.

"We think he's on drugs," said Wilson.

"Lots of drugs."

"More than usual?"

"Way more than usual," said Wilson and Cameron.

"No," said Cuddy, taking a seat. "It can't be drugs. He passed the tox screen this morning."

Cameron blinked. "You screened House for drugs?"

"I screen everyone for drugs. Don't even ask me how we get the urine samples every day. It's all in the contract you signed."

"That was a pretty big contract."

"With lots of small print," said Cuddy happily. "But enough about me. House has obviously suffered some kind of head injury."

"Or possession by an alien creature," said Cameron.

"I can certainly see why House hired you."

*

In his office, House was attempting to re-enact a dance sequence from Singin' in the Rain without crippling his other leg.

"What is he singing?" Cuddy wondered. He had yet to notice them watching him through the glass wall.

"The Carpenters," said Cameron. In a wavering voice, she sang, "'What the world needs now, is love, sweet love--'"

"Stop," said Stacy. "I know what's happened." She waited until she had everyone's attention. "Greg," she said slowly, "loves the Carpenters."

"No," said Chase.

"Yes. He cried when Karen Carpenter died. He watches all the biopics. He sometimes pretends that 'Close To You' was written for him. And he likes to listen to their music as he falls asleep."

"Oh no," said Cameron.

"Yes," said Stacy.

"It's surprising he's not crazy," said Chase.

There was a silence.

"'Crazy' is such a harsh word," said Wilson.

"House just sees the world ... differently," said Cameron.

"The Carpenters," said Foreman. "I thought he was cooler than that."

Stacy snorted. "Oh yeah, he tries. But you go through his iPod one day – it's all Bay City Rollers, Seals and Croft, even," she shuddered, "Wings."

They contemplated the horror.

"We need to knock him out," said Wilson, "and make him listen to something that will make him," he considered the word 'normal', discarded it, and finished, "back to how he usually is."

"I don't know," said Foreman. "There are worse things in the world than being nice."

"For House?" asked Chase.

"Good point."

"It's what he'd want," said Cameron.

"I say we tackle him, hit him over the head with his cane and find some decent music on his iPod," said Chase.

The others stared at him.

"I brought sedatives," said Foreman.

"Right," said Cuddy. "Good. No tackling."

"Can I at least poke him a bit?" asked Chase.

Foreman raised his eyebrows. "You'd poke a man when he's down?"

"Why not?"

*

They left House in blissful unconsciousness. There was a smile on his face, but, Cameron conceded, it wasn't a very nice one.

"It's hard to believe," she said, "that somewhere inside House there is a nice man trying to escape."

"And somewhere inside that nice man," said Stacy, "is the real Greg House, and he's pretty damn pissed."

"He won't be happy when he wakes up."

"Isn't that what you want?"

"I just feel like maybe we should be prepared to run." Cameron considered the matter. "Or at least walk really fast."

*

House woke up with a splitting headache, a mouth that tasted like some kind of rodent, and the innate satisfaction of a man who knows that, while the world may be against him, at least it's met its match.

 

end


End file.
